Silence was something that Amy enjoyed, unlike Effie. It gave her a chance to think, sort out how she was feeling- and in cases like this, she was feeling a lot- it gave her a chance to run through her options, try to figure out what was happening, what was going to happen... it was calming, for her. The most annoying thing had been the boy beside her with his periodic, "so, how are you?" "It's nice to meet you... Ambrosia, right?" "Doesn't this taste great?" Despite the name, this wasn't a game, and Amy was almost positive that he didn't know that. She wouldn't usually say this, but he needed to die- she didn't expect him to make it past the bloodbath; he seemed like an idiot. He probably was. Half of the people Amy had met that didn't seem like idiots were dead, and the other two were her younger siblings. She stabbed a- what was she even eating?- a little too hard. The clang of the silverware on the plate hurt her ears, but she pretended it didn't.
She didn't know much about Effie, no. But she knew that Effie was practically her mentor- considering, you know, there wasn't one- and she knew that she had known Haymitch- for a week- and she couldn't get him out of the Games last year. She knew enough to be passive aggressive, because this girl- and she was only a girl, not much older than Amy herself- was supposed to save Haymitch. She was supposed to save him, but she didn't. And Amy definitely blamed her for that. She had every right, to, really- it was her job to get him out, and she couldn't do it. She just hoped that Effie'd be a bit more helpful this time around- god knows she could use it.
"Oh, trust me, I know," she replied somewhat coldly. A good show. Was that all this was to her? Some twisted form of entertainment? Was that it? Did she even care about Haymitch- about any of the tributes last year, about her or that idiot of a kid that just walked out? No, she just cared about 'a good show.' Amy bet last year was probably just fantastic- a tribute from twelve coming so close to beating a career. "Yeah. Brother was reaped, too, a few years back; could make that work in my favour, too. I miss them, I'm doing this for them and my family back home, blah blah blah sob story, I get sponsors." Oh, she knew how this worked.
Amy might seem like she didn't care. With her attitude, the nonchalant way she had just talked about two of the people she loved the most, you might think that it really wasn't a big deal to her. She was an actress. She pretended like she didn't care- it was a defence mechanism, in a way. It was how she avoided caring, for the most part. Because the moment someone thought you cared, the more you'd feel like you cared- Amy cared, a whole lot, but it was only limited to a few people. Stupid as her parents were, she loved them. Her twin siblings back home, little Alder and Acacia, only fifteen, still so innocent- but they had seen loss, so much loss. The love she had had for both Haymitch and Ashton was outstanding. She supposed either way things turned out, she'd be fine. She dies? Fine. Let her go see her brother and her boyfriend, her best friend again. Let her watch over the other four people she cares about. She lives? Awesome. Hopefully her siblings'd stay safe. At least they'd never have to take tesserae. Amy liked that option.
Right. Stylist. Amy was not excited for that because, like most Capitol citizens, it seemed the stylists were complete idiots. Haymitch had looked okay, for the most part- but Amy knew they could have done so much better. She just hoped that whatever they put on her would at least be somewhat flattering. "I swear to god if I'm on that chariot looking like a coal miner, I'm not going to wait until the Games to kill someone."
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